Dragon Age - Into the Deep
by DynamicShot
Summary: The warden had betrayed the trust of his group. The meeting that they had agreed to have before entering the deep roads never came. Darren had given into his adrenaline and rushed into the deep roads without notifying the rest of the party, and it had been a grave mistake. Now back at camp, he must face the consequences before returning to finish his task.
1. Part One - Dinner

**DRAGON AGE: INTO THE DEEP  
**

**PART ONE - DINNER**

_**D**_arren laid his sword and shield on the grass inside of his tent. After removing his plate as well he sat down next to his gear, leaning his head back on the tree he had set his tent up next to.

The flaps of his tent were open to let moonlight cut through the darkness and smoke in the sky. He could see the evidence of the cooking fire being lit through the smoke and dull smell of boiling beans. It was Alistair's turn to cook, again. It was also Sten and Darren's turn to take watch. They had really silently volunteered.

Beyond the stench of smoke were bitterness, fear, and disappointment. Beyond the tree Darren was leaning against was the camp of the group of people he had spent the last year with. Beyond that tree a group of people who no longer trusted him discussed the events of the day.

* * *

Zevran let out an excessively loud chain of laughter after watching Alistair accidently pour sugar instead of salt into the pot. The sound of his laughter brought a smirk out of the soon-to-be king as he realized his mistake, but no one else batted an eye. Everyone in camp was acting reserved and angry, and Alistair's cooking wasn't about to help. In truth Zevran was also extremely angry, but he didn't want to contribute to the feeling of distraught. Ever since they had set up their tents he had been the only one to make jokes, as well as the only one talking more than necessary. He had joked about all manners of things, Sten's hair, Leliana's new pet, even going so far as to say some sugar would make Alistair's cooking sweeter. But no one cared for the Antivan's jokes, no one cared for much of anything.

"So who is going to be the first one to try Alistair's Fereldan sweet beans?" asked Zevran, crossing his arms and sitting down on a tree stump near the fire.

"Hopefully no one," said Alistair with a worried expression as he looked into the pot. "I think the beans are starting to bubble."

"So they are Fereldan bubbling beans, then?"

"It might be served with a side of bubbling Antivan elf."

"That certainly sounds interesting. I wouldn't be opposed to try it," Zevran chuckled as he picked up one of his daggers and began to sharpen it.

After that silence again reigned until it was time for dinner. There was no bubbling Antivan elf, only Fereldan bubbling beans. According to Zevran they tasted like watered down and squishy versions of a candy he used to eat in Antiva from time to time. The only other response dinner received was from Leliana, who always thanked whoever cooked the food. As she did so tonight she held her nose and put her plate near the fire to be put away. She then went back to her tent to quietly pet Schmooples.

Nothing notable happened for hours. No one went to sleep, and Zevran's attempts at jokes were now completely ignored. Dinner had somehow managed to make everyone feel even worse. Even Zevran now stopped smiling, he just sat on his tree stump and stayed quiet.

* * *

"Kadan."

Darren jumped as he was awakened by a gaping hand sitting on his shoulder. At first he smacked it away in horror, but then he realized it was the hand of a Qunari. As his senses came back to him, he had to ponder why a Qunari would be waking him up. Once his memory arrvied he remembered that Sten was on watch with him. The fear seeped out of him. He stepped out of the tent and rubbed his eyes. Sten had his sword on his back and a cookie in his hand. Waking up to a Qunari with a cookie and a sword wasn't something Darren did every day.

"What's going on Sten?"

"You should eat."

"What?"

"You need to eat."

"How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough to miss dinner."

Darren muttered to himself as he yawned and noticed his stomach growling quite fiercely. He didn't enjoy being woken up, but his stomach appreciated it.

"What was for dinner?" he said as his stomach relayed the question through his mouth.

"I do not know, I smelt something similar to beans," said the Qunari as he quietly bit into his large cookie.

"Then what did you eat?"

"These pieces of bread."

Darren suppressed a chuckle and turned to walk back towards camp.

"They're called cookies, Sten."


	2. Part Two - Weight

_**DRAGON AGE**_

_**Into the Deep**_

_**Part Two – Weight**_

The smile that had managed to creep up on Darren's lips faded nearly the instant he walked into camp. An overwhelming sense of anger and distraught overtook every other sensation. On a normal night in camp someone would be talking, cooking, cleaning, or doing something notable. No one was doing anything of the sort tonight.

Zevran sat on a stump near the edge of the campfire, tying his boots in an abstract pattern with a tired expression on his face.

Alistair sat on the ground not too far away from Zevran, reading a dull book entitled "Denerim Cheese Heist.

To the right of the cooking fire was Leliana, laying down on her mat and petting Schmooples.

Behind her were Alistair, Zevran, and Wynne's tents. Wynne generally liked to sit in front of her tent and do what Alistair referred to as "magey things," but she insisted tonight on brushing Dun's fur.

A good walk away from the fire laid Morrigan's own small camp. Out of the entire group, she seemed to be acting the most normal, sitting around and either brewing potions or studying Flemeth's grimoire.

Sten remained beyond the trees, keeping watch.

Within a few moments Darren had walked beside of Alistair to grab a bowl of whatever foul-smelling goop he had made up.

There were five grimy looking bowls left next to the pot, none of them being completely empty. In that pot lay something that looked like what could best be described as mush. It smelled faintly of beans, but there was a sweet layer to it that made the entire scent very odd and unappetizing. His nose argued with his stomach, but ultimately the growling beast in his abdomen won the battle. He used a ladle and spooned a helping of the now thick mush into a bowl. As he looked up from making himself a bowl, he found that everyone in camp was now watching him.

He couldn't tell if they were interested in his reaction to the food, or interested in the fact that he had the nerve to come back to camp tonight. Darren decided to ignore it for now, and then proceeded to grab a spoon and a place to sit next to Alistair.

"What'd you do with these beans Alistair, make candy?" asked Darren after he had downed a spoon of the strange mixture. As he had feared, there was no reaction.

* * *

After a few minutes of eating, Darren's stomach was feeling strange but full at the same time. Once he was on his feet and preparing to head back to his tent, he had trouble figuring out if it was the beans or the sinking feeling of disappointment making him feel sick. He had hoped that someone would initiate a conversation, or do something normal, but his hopes were lying along with the remains of his beans near the cooking fire.

Before beginning the incline up towards the tree line he heard a voice call out to him. He couldn't make out who it was, but he didn't care. Any excuse to head back to camp and make things right was worth it.

Darren had arrived back at his spot next to Alistair to find Wynne standing up on the opposite side of the fire with her arms crossed. He instantly cursed himself for not expecting this. Wynne was always the one to end these types of things within the group.

"Perhaps we're not happy, but sitting around and acting like annoyed children isn't going to solve anything," stated Wynne, moving her gaze across the three men scattered around the fire.

Zevran was the first one to move his gaze upwards, furrowing his brow at the statement. In the months Darren had traveled with Zevran he had learned that the elf was not a fan of Wynne's discipline. The crow liked to resolve things with a drink and a few drinks or wait for them to resolve themselves. His tactics were easy, but they never managed to fix an issue from the core. Wynne's way of approaching problems was on the opposite end of the spectrum.

"I had a feeling we were going to be getting to this part soon," the Antivan stated, getting up from his tree stump and stretching out his arms.

Darren stood with his arms crossed much like Wynne, his slicked back brown hair reflecting distant images from inside the flames. The whole evening had led up to this point, and the warden knew that now was the time to settle this.

"I don't want this to last long. I'm not fuming over the fact that you went to the deep roads without telling us, but you nearly died. From what it sounds like you were running around and attacking any darkspawn that bothered you. You know better. I've been following you for months and you've never done anything like this, that's just not what you do," calmly stated the elf, casually shrugging his shoulders at his comment.

"Sure we ran into some trouble, but I got the group back alive, didn't I? Do you see anyone dead here?" asked Darren, knowing he was wrong but still clutching at the chance to come out on top in the argument.

"I don't see any now, but thinking of how many I would see if you had passed in the deep roads horrifies me. Not only am I angry because of how much you mean to me, but we are Fereldan's only chance of survival! This group will surely die with you. And when this group dies, Fereldan will die. Who knows what will happen to all of Thedas if Fereldan falls?" interjected Leliana, seeming to jump out of the shadows in the middle of the conversation. She was noticeably shaken. Darren had only seen the bard emotional a handful of times, and even those times were not like now. Her eyes portrayed a vivid image of conflicted emotions, the sadness of her eyes and the anger of the flames intertwining inside of her iris.

"You put our entire group in danger just to get Bhelen on the throne as quickly as you could! You were more focused on getting out of Orzammar than you were with your own groups safety!" she continued as emotion rolled into her voice.

"I was trying to get out of Orzammar as quickly as possible because from the surface this country is dying of a horrible cancer. Every day death and destruction looms ever closer. What would you have me do, dilly dally underground while everyone above the surface dies in waiting?" Darren sarcastically asked; his own anger obvious in the rising tone of his voice.

"Stop being so damned arrogant! You're trying to move too quickly. You're doing so many things at once that you're forgetting why you're doing them in the first place. Is that good for our country? Do you want to build up an army and have it fall at your feet at the day of battle because you forgot to build supports for it?" Zevran said, to the point of nearly yelling. Darren had never seen the elf be so emotional. Witnessing this situation bring out this side of his friend made him feel all the worse for what he had done.

"Enough. That is enough. I understand that we're all angry but you forget the stress lying at Darren's feet. He may have tripped and fallen, but instead of helping him up we're kicking him back down. We need to stop fighting and think about all that was said," stated Wynne, cutting Zevran off before he continued.

The Antivan was obviously angry with her, but no one in the camp could deny that what Wynne said was ultimately true. This fighting was no longer benefiting anyone.

* * *

No one really knew what to say. It was obvious that anger was fading, but everyone in camp found that fact tough to approach. They realized that the fighting was necessary. They realized that they still didn't enjoy the fighting. Everyone had been very vocal about their opinions on the matter besides Alistair. The up and coming King of Fereldan was very quiet up for most of the night. When other members of the group were in obvious need of sleep, however, he decided to open up.

"I never expected there to be so much stone. We've all heard the stories of stone-sense and all that, but I had never suspected the deep roads to be completely made of stone. I thought that there would be dirt, or plants, or something other than just rock. This sounds so cheesy, but for a minute just think about this. The deep roads _represent_ the blight. It's all of the blight compressed into one big tunnel of passageways and filth. All of that stone pressing down on top of us, waiting to fall on us if we make the wrong step. It sounds similar to what's going on out here, doesn't it?" Alistair stated, sitting down on the ground and now hanging his right arm over his knee to rest it.

"Darren, I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with the fact that I didn't try to talk you out of this. I guess in the midst of all of this, you're not the only one collapsing under pressure," he said calmly, shrugging his shoulders lightly as he did so.

Darren leaned his against the large tree stump he had been sitting in front of and closed his eyes.

"You all were right. I'm starting to rush and it's hurting us," he said, opening his eyes and sighing. "You didn't join me in this to die from not being careful. You joined with me to stop the blight. From now on, that's my focus. And if anyone feels like I'm rushing, slap me," he chuckled, cracking a smile as he did so.

"I let my emotions take my better judgment. Darren, you are a dear friend and you didn't deserve to be attacked like I did. I'm sorry and I trust you, no matter what mistakes you make," Leliana proclaimed as she drew patterns in the dirt with one of her daggers. She seemed calm and serene now, the wild imagery in her eyes settling into a calm blue ocean.

Zevran sat on his tree stump, once again going back to tying his boot in an abstract looking pattern. He also seemed to have lightened up, revealing the determined but collected face of the assassin.

"I've cracked a little myself. I'm getting so used to this idea of what I'm going to do after this is all over, and you're the one who gave me that idea. Without you there I wouldn't know what to do after the blight. So then I have nothing to look forward to, and that's when I begin the thinking about all the darkspawn. I don't want to think about my chances, because I know how slim they are. I am living on hopes of a brighter future and you almost dying made that hope falter. I am sorry, Darren. I also trust in you, and I thank you for being so kind to me through all of this," Zevran said, surprisingly stern and serious considering how playful his normal tone was.

Wynne still sat on the other side of the fire, now dozing off lightly every few minutes. Since the group had begun to speak again her eyes had opened warily.

"Now, doesn't _that_ feel better?" she chuckled, still dozing into sleep.

The area around the cooking fire imploded with a resounding yes from everyone sitting around it. Afterwards everyone laughed for a moment, reveling in the sweet return of normality.

It wasn't long before the jokes began to be hatched about the disgraceful dinner Alistair had served them. The intensity in the air began to once again pick up with the jokes, but that intensity was followed by a whisper of friendship in the wind."

"Maybe Alistair's cooking is what made us so angry," chuckled Darren, bumping Alistair on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't be surprised. What was in those beans anyway?" asked Leliana as she walked by the dirty dishes and held her nose.

"I…might have accidentally put sugar instead of salt into the beans. Then they sort of started to bubble, like some kind of dessert," muttered Alistair, stirring around in the pot to see what remained of the gray substance.

"Ah yes, the classic Fereldan bubbling bean! You may now all thank me for the delicacy," hooted Zevran while he took his daggers off of his back.

As everyone began to move back towards their own tents, a camp-wide question rang through the air.

"WHAT!?"

"I may or may not have helped Alistair with our collection of spices before he began to cook," he smirked, pleased with the reaction.

"ZEVRAN!" yelled Leliana, stomping into the ground as her face turned red with annoyance.

"A side of bubbling Antivan elf sounds delicious right now!" cackled Alistair, laughing hysterically.

"Very much so," laughed Darren, patting Alistair on the back to calm him down."

"How do you season an Antivan elf?" Zevran asked Alistair, awaiting an answer with a curious expression on his face.

The group stood with bated breath, waiting for Alistair's answer so they could head back to their tents.

Before answering Alistair made sure to prolong his time to think, rubbing his chin and humming very loudly. After over a minute of thinking, the soon to be King had finally found an answer that satisfied him.

"With sugar."


	3. Part Three - Alive

_**DRAGON AGE: INTO THE DEEP**_

_**PART THREE – ALIVE**_

Darren's legs were aching by the time he had reached the top of the hill where he and Sten were keeping watch. The steep incline wasn't easy on the Warden's legs after the long day he had experienced. Yet he couldn't contain the relieved smile that spread across his face when he reached the top and saw Sten sitting a few feet away, staring off at distant mountaintops.

Darren approached the Qunari and noticed that his sword was lying across his crossed legs. He wondered for a moment if he should say anything, wondering if what Sten was doing was some type of Qunari prayer. After a few seconds of contemplation he came to the conclusion that if he interrupted, Sten would likely get over it. He then took a seat next to the Qunari, sighing as he did so.

The snowy mountaintops hung in the distance, scratching the sky in a beautiful repeating rhythm as far as Darren's eyes could see. They cast off an aura of relaxation onto the camp. While the deep roads were a dark, crumbling structure miles underground, the mountaintops were gorgeous pieces of land constantly attempting to overthrow the night sky. There was something calming in sensing that contrast, but it needn't be talked about out loud. Sten and Darren both felt it. They even shared it, bathing in its invisible glow without exchanging a word. There they sat, silently keeping vigil over their camp. There they sat, staring at the top of the world before preparing to travel to the bottom of it. Darren couldn't tell if that contrast was relaxing or stressful.

After sitting for an hour, the mountains began to cast a different aura. This was one of morning light, breaking through the night sky and shooting itself over the mountaintops.

_It's morning already?_

Darren yawned and scratched his hairy face, becoming increasingly more aware of a slight urging in his stomach. He wasn't in the mood to eat, but his cursed appetite always called for him to come prepared. The hungry warden reached into a pocket on the front of his shirt and pulled out a square piece of bread. It immediately began to crumble in his fingers and he swore to himself under his breath. He had mistaken a cookie for a piece of bread while fumbling around in the dark at camp.

For a moment he considered taking it back to the camp to grab a piece of bread in its place, but instead broke the cookie in half. Darren then tapped Sten on the shoulder and offered the larger half of the cookie to him. The Qunari was confused to say the least, but Darren gave him a simple nod and that was all the excuse Sten needed to take the sweet piece of bread and scarf it down. It was an odd sight, a Qunari and a grey warden sharing a cookie as they watched the sunrise.

* * *

The cooking fire in the middle of the camp was not lit when the morning hung heavily in the air. It stayed calm, the embers from the night before cooling down quickly in the cold air.

Alistair had tried to light the fire once he awoke and taken his tent down, but Wynne stopped him with a knowing look in her eyes. The grumpy warden had objected, but ultimately listened to the old mage. Everyone in camp was enveloped in their own duties, the fire wasn't important.

A silence had come to sing to the camp this morning, yet it was not the song from the previous night. While that was one of anger and worry, this was one of calm. The task of the day had lain itself directly in front of camp, and no one could deny it. Today was the day to enter the deep roads.

* * *

When the sun had risen Darren had gotten his heavy plate armor on and packed up his tent. He was ready to get on the road, but he was more ready to eat some real food. A gust of wind had whisked away his half of the cookie he had shared with Sten, leaving him with nothing to eat for multiple hours.

Darren went down the hill to camp with his tent on his back, a sword in one hand, his shield in the other, and his hunger burrowing inside of his stomach. The sword was helping him traverse his way down the slightly slippery slope; digging itself into the muddy ground and giving him some much needed assistance.

The warden had picked this camping ground out of convenience, not comfort. While the snowy Frostback Mountains enveloped them, Darren still somehow managed to find an area suitable for camp. It was in a small valley a few miles to the east of the path that led up to Orzammar. There were bits of snow that needed to be shoveled out of the way, yet for the most part this ground was very different from the rest of the chain of mountains they had been climbing for the last few days. On three sides it was surrounded by smaller mountains, closing it in but leaving enough room for everyone to spread out comfortably. On the fourth side, to the right of the exit to the camp, was a small hill with scattered pine trees and bushes. That was where Darren and Sten had held watch.

Unfortunately, the small trek up and down this hill was made more difficult as the sun rose, as it caused chunks of snow to fall off of the pine trees and land in the path that was cleared out. Darren had made his way up and down the hill a handful of times, and a majority of the time he was hit with chunks of snow on the way. Now his hands were completely full, and snow was falling like no tomorrow. In his right hand he held up his shield that had the griffon of the grey wardens emblazoned cross it, attempting to protect his head from any large patches of snow as he hurried down. With only a few feet left to traverse, a ball of snow hit his shield with force. The impact of the blow caused him to falter for a moment, which was all that was needed to make him fall down. Luckily enough his fall was not a steep one, and as such he only had to deal with some dirt getting on his face and a rough landing on his right elbow.

After getting back up on his feet, Darren noticed that a few people were crowded around the unlit cooking fire. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that everyone in the camp besides Sten and Morrigan were crowded together.

Sten was making his way down the hill behind Darren, but at a considerably slower pace due to his larger mass.

Morrigan was lying down in a makeshift canopy between two trees, studying her Grimoire as always. Darren knew that Morrigan had seen the gathering around the fire, and he was a little annoyed at the fact that she was obviously ignoring it. He decided not to dwell on that fact for long, dismissing it as Morrigan just being Morrigan.

All of the equipment used for camp was packed up. Bodahn had put all of the cooking equipment and tents in his large wagon, and it was ultimately time to leave camp behind. Yet there they all remained for a few moments, gathered around the fire-pit, exchanging knowing glances.

The looks Darren received stirred something within him. It was something he certainly didn't enjoy. The idea that he could be leaving these friends behind for good was more frightened him more than the thought of going into the deep roads. While at times he got angry or acted selfishly around them, he couldn't deny that these people were _special to him._ They were friends he could trust, ones that wouldn't leave him or lie to him. Jowan was the closest thing he had ever had to a friend, and now he was lying in a still grave by Darren's command. He had thought the pang of guilt he had felt when he sentenced that blood mage to death was evidence that Jowan was his friend, but this moment proved him wrong. This moment was what friendship was.

Sten eventually joined the group, and he was also the first one to do anything other than look around. To everyone's shock, he took Asala out of its sheath and forcefully stuck it into the ground. The gesture was confusing to say the least.

After a moment it became evident to the others that it was some Qunari showing of respect, and suddenly a mad dash of weapons slamming into the ground flashed in front of Darren's eyes. Specks of dirt flew as staves, daggers and swords all stopped in their tracks, standing straight up without help from their wielders. Darren was the only one who had not stuck his weapon into the ground, becoming lost in the odd beauty that surrounded the campfire.

There was a nearly complete circle of weapons closing in the fire like fencing, and the only open spot was directly in front of Darren. He tried to cover up the mask of flooding emotions clouding his face by pulling his enchanted blade from its sheath, but he knew the ruse wasn't fooling anyone. His eyes were watering and his features were being slightly scrunched up; giving away evident signs of him trying to hide his feelings. He quickly made the decision to slam his own blade into the ground, completing the circle. No one spoke a word, but when Darren emerged from wiping his face an unspoken message was relayed to everyone.

_Thank you. _

Moments after Darren had put his blade into the ground; Sten pulled Asala from the dirt and put it back in its sheath. Once again no words were spoken, but a new message was relayed.

_You'll come back alive. Then we can share thanks. _


End file.
